And she said with a
joyful voice
yet you could trace a strain
of melancholy in her existence
“let’s drink as if tomorrow never comes
a cup of god’s wine amidst life and death
blood is seeking flesh
flesh is seeking earth
but earth always desperately search
for heavens”
The
water is spilled
yet she still sits among the pear trees and wild thorny bushes
an insignificant little jasmine
bathed with fragrance mixed with blood
white jade child with no face
only the moon captures a past reflection
but her void belongs to earth
the magpies try to fool her
chatting happily every dawn
as the night comes
the cicadas fall silent
though is still summer
she knows that winter is coming
the thorns will eventually conquer her world
Maria Rodopoulou
PS.
Life is but a single drop of a scented mist
or the first fly of a newborn rainbow crane
whatever it is
its taste is the wild flower's ambrosia
